The Palace That Rose From The Sands
by musapan
Summary: Hafa has wandered the desert for years under the affliction of a terrible curse. [Pairings: MakoHaru, NagiRei, RinTori]
1. Chapter 1

Hey! Thanks for reading this and stuff.  
For those of you who could care less about authors explaining things, maybe important things, (probably not tho) continue on your way and enjoy! To everyone else (haha, suckers) here be some information.

This story is based on the Arabian ending theme of Free!, but I am no expert in Arabic history (coughoranyhistoryreallycough) so there are probably some errors. I'm drawing from Arabic history, mythology, and fantasy in general. I'm taking huge liberties with this while still trying my bestest to keep it believable, so I hope that comes through.

All names used are actual Arabic names, and some of them have meanings that are eerily perfect for the characters. I also made sure that the men had girly names. (I actually learned a lot through this whole process. Which is kind of sad actually. DID YOU KNOW THAT IT ISN'T WATER THAT CAMELS STORE IN THEIR HUMPS, IT'S FAT? CAUSE I SURE AS HELL DIDN'T. See mom, my love of gay swimmers DID benefit me in the end! Ha!)

The mythology aspect is especially hard, because true Arabic mythology often gets confused with Americanized versions of their lore, (I blame D&D) so some of it may be off, but hey. There's going to be hot hot man sex. So forgive me.

Also this is going to be a really long story. Your feedback is really appreciated, it keeps me going and gives me warm fuzzies. Unless your feedback is crap. And in that case taKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW YOU ASS HAT

**WARNINGS:** Mild gore and violence, strong language, and of course that hot hot man sex I promised.

**PAIRINGS:** MakoHaru, Nagirei, Rintori and possibly some really mild RinHaru if you want to be _that guy_ and look that hard into things. (Noreallytheremightbesomeprettystrongimplications) 

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It was there, but he couldn't believe it.

Sparkling and blue and shining in the unforgiving heat of the sun, the oasis stretched over the harsh desert like a blanket, and it was the most perfect water Hafa had ever seen. Strangely, the oasis was perched just on the outskirts of an enormous city, towers and buildings rising impressively over the sands. He would have fallen to his knees at the sight if it hadn't taken so much energy to do so.

There were figures in the water, swimming and splashing and looking as joyous as he felt; all human, it looked like, but that mattered little to Hafa. There was water. Finally, after all these years, had the curse really been broken?

A familiar figure in the water looked his way. He knew this man, it had been so long since he'd seen him, and more than anything, he felt relief. The crimson-haired man extended a hand to him, an invitation to join them, to come into the dazzling water and finally find the peace he craved.

Hafa pushed forward, using the very last of his energy to make a dash for the oasis. _Water_. It had been so long. If he could just feel it against his skin, feel it spread out over his tongue, lose himself in it, he would be content. Even if this mortal body failed him, even if this were his last day alive, he just wanted to feel the water.

The men splashing around in the water noticed him approach, and they all looked happy to see him. Hafa removed his clothes hastily as he neared and with one last push, he dove eagerly into the oasis.

The desert winds blew and Hafa could feel sand dusting his body and getting into his clothes. Hafa's eyes were open, but just barely. He smiled softly into the sand, his body too weak to move.

Everytime he was close to death, he would see the water mirage. The mirage had been different this time. He had never seen the city before, or the humans. No matter how many times he convinced himself not to let himself be fooled, in the end he always hoped that it was real and that his torture was at an end. But it never was.

He felt a soft nose prodding him from behind. His camel, who had seen this happen many times now, was making more of a fuss than usual. _Perhaps_, Hafa thought hopefully, _this will be the very last time I close my eyes_.

Just as he felt himself slipping away, a voice was bringing him back from the coldness and solitude of death, speaking urgently to him, calling him by a name that was not his name. He opened his eyes blearily to catch a glimpse of a brunette figure hovering over him.

"_Haru…_ _Haru_!"

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"Haru!"

A hand on his shoulder finally brought him back to himself, and deep blue eyes swept in the direction of Makoto, who was looking at Haru with a tilted head and a smile.

"Are you okay? Do you not want to go inside?" Makoto asked, and Haru looked back at the building in front of them. His eyes were fixed on the arabian-esque palace that made up the front of the club, outlining the name in neon lights. He said nothing, which of course could have meant anything.

"Haru-chan, we came all this way, we have to go in! It sounds like so much fun!" Nagisa chimed, jumping on Haru's back and putting weight on his other shoulder.

"I share Haruka-sempai's hesitence," came Rei's voice, bringing up the rear of the company and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Loud music emanated from inside the building, as well as the occasional cheering of a crowd. "What kind of club is this anyway, Nagisa-kun? How did you even find out about it?"

Nagisa turned to Rei with a bright smile, eyes shimmering with excitement. "Someone from school told me that as long as you look old enough, you can get in, and it's really fun! Just dancing and drinking and karaoke and more _dancing_! That's why we have to go!"

Rei flushed. "We're not drinking, Nagisa, we're underage!" he exclaimed, and Nagisa waved his hand at him with a pout.

"Of course we're not drinking, Rei-chan, who do you take me for? Well, Haru-chan, are we going in? Please say yes!"

Haru had been only half-listening to the banter, his eyes still fixed on the neon-sign that read 'Splash Club', framed by the palace. Finally he spoke.

"We can go," he said, and Nagisa's face lit up with a tremendous smile, and he immediately jumped on Haru's back in reply.

"Looking at it just makes me feel nostalgic somehow," Haru finished distantly, and all eyes moved up to the neon sign, following Haru's gaze.

Makoto laughed softly. "You know, you're right. It's strange, isn't it?"

"I suppose it's true. I wonder what attributes that sign has to make my mind misfire in such a way." Rei said thoughtfully, and Nagisa went over to him and grabbed his arm, tugging on it.

"Don't make things sound so logical, Rei-chan! It's so boring!" he whined, and before Rei could utter an indignant reply, Nagisa looked back at the sign. "I agree, though! It gives me a funny feeling, like we've all been here before."

A silence fell over the company, brief but almost meaningful, until Nagisa broke the silence and started dragging Rei towards the entrance.

"Come on, come on! The night is young! We have dancing to do!" he laughed excitedly, ignoring the protests of his unwilling captive.

Haru and Makoto watched Nagisa pull Rei through the doors of the club. Turning to Haru with a comforting smile, Makoto took a step forward, urging his friend to follow.

"Well, Haru? Are you coming?"

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.

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Blue eyes fluttered open, and a gasp escaped dry lips.

Hafa was staring at a ceiling. For a long while he didn't move, too confused and too tired to attempt. _He was staring at a ceiling_. He had seen nothing but sand and sky for so long, looking at something man-made was almost straining to his eyes.

As his senses slowly returned to him, Hafa could feel a wool blanket over his bare chest, and a pillow under his head. The floor under him was hard, but not uncomfortably so; more blankets had been placed under him to give him support.

He tried moving; it was proving to be difficult, but not impossible. He experimentally moved his arms first, and then his head. As he turned his head to the side, he saw that he appeared to be in the back of a store of some kind. On the opposite side of the room there was a narrow set of stairs that went up, indicating that he was below ground level. There were crates stacked around the small space, writing scrawled on each one, and pottery littered the floor and shelves.

Hafa turned his head again, and this time he sat bolt-upright, eyes wide and fixed on a stone cup filled with water. Hafa's mouth was dryer than it had ever been, and for a moment, he didn't move. It couldn't be real, could it? Was this all just another mirage? His arms trembled. It was the first water he had seen in so many years… There was simply no way it could be real.

No longer caring, Hafa reached for the cup, hands shaking like leaves, and he carefully clasped the cup in his hand. It felt real. The stone was cool against the palm of his hand, and he could feel it,_ really feel it_.

Needing no other incentive, Hafa brought the cup to his mouth. The water pressed against his lips invitingly, and Hafa had to stifle a sob. He drank gratefully, unable to stop himself from making soft whimpering sounds as the precious liquid flooded into his mouth and streamed down his throat.

He very nearly saved some of it, just to be able to perhaps twirl a finger in it or pour it over his dark hair, but before he could take those thoughts seriously he had drank it all. The mortal need to alleviate suffering was stronger than his desire to feel the water at the moment.

"You're awake!" came a voice, and Hafa started, having been so engrossed in the sensation of water that he had nearly forgotten where he was.

Hafa flashed his gaze over to the stone steps, where the same brunette he had seen earlier was descending. The man was dressed in a yellow turban and green cloth, with a black and white striped cloak falling over one massive shoulder. The man was rather tall, and had to stoop over somewhat as he cleared the last step and entered the storage room.

Hafa said nothing, half-tempted to try and leave, and half-tempted to ask for more water.

"Are you feeling alright? When I found you, I was almost sure you were dead. But from the looks of it, you pulled through just fine."

"How did you find me?" Hafa asked in a defensive tone. The man blinked at him, as if confused.

"It wasn't hard. I was selling some wares just outside the city, and I saw you collapse. You were so close to the city, too, it would have been a shame if you hadn't made it. So I brought you here to rest."

"My camel?" Hafa asked stiffly. He knew that a camel was as replaceable as anything else, but he and that camel had been through quite a lot together.

The man smiled good-naturedly, and moved to sit on a crate nearer to Hafa. "He's outside, helping keep an eye on the shop. He was rather insistent to come along, I couldn't very well deny him," he said with a laugh. "My siblings have taken a liking to him."

Hafa relaxed somewhat. The stone cup was still clenched tightly in his hand, as if it would produce more water the longer he held it and willed it so. He wanted to ask for more, so badly, but his pride held him back. Instead, he dropped his gaze to stare at the empty cup.

"I should thank you for helping me." Hafa said quietly, and the man laughed again.

"Oh really now? Well, I suppose I should say you're welcome. I did what anyone halfway decent would have done."

"Why did you call me 'Haru'?" Hafa asked suddenly. It had been preying on his mind ever since he woke up. The man's smile faded, and he cocked his head to the side and rolled his eyes upward in thought.

"I don't think I did," he finally said.

"I heard you," Hafa rebutted.

"I've never seen you before, so I doubt I would have started making up names for you," the man laughed reproachfully. "But I like that name, it sounds exotic. Haru. What is your real name?"

Hafa's gaze lowered and he stared off to the side of the room, fixing his eyes on a crack in the wall. "Hafa."

The man hummed, and nodded his head. "So similar! Hafa… _Gentle rain_, right?" he said, but Hafa only frowned in reply.

"My name is Makarim. I think I'll call you Haru, though. It seems to suit you better. You can call me Mako, if you want… My friends call me Mako."

Hafa was just about to point out the fact that they were _not _friends when Makarim spoke again, effectively silencing any possible comeback he could have thought up.

"You don't mind if I call you Haru, then? After all, djinns get renamed all the time by humans, don't they?" he chuckled.

Hafa's head turned so fast he nearly cramped his neck; his blue eyes locked intensely on Makarim, his expression undeterminable. His fight or flight instinct was buzzing wildly, but he knew he was in no fit state to do either.

Makarim smiled almost sadly. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to startle you. Believe me, I mean you no harm… I couldn't help but say something. I've never seen one in person before."

Boldly, Makarim left his perch on the crate and knelt down to Hafa's level, looking at his features fondly as one would stare at a priceless tapestry, or a lost relic. "I assumed djinn, but that doesn't seem quite right. Are you an ifrit, or a marid?"

Too surprised to even blush under the intrusive stares of the human, Hafa merely stared in surprise at the other man. Finally, he answered. "Marid." After speaking, he looked away.

"Oh? A sea-marid, perhaps? What in the world were you doing in the desert, so far away from water? And how did you end up in a mortal body?"

"How did you know?" Hafa asked, skirting all of Makarim's probing questions. "How could you tell?"

Makarim smiled softly and sat back, putting a more comfortable distance between the two of them, to Hafa's relief.

"My grandfather used to talk of genies all the time. He was convinced they were real, and he told me all about them. He always told me that their eyes were the gateways to their souls, and once you saw the eyes of a genie, you would never forget them," he said, glancing back at Hafa although the marid was trying hard to avoid his gaze.

"Your eyes look like the ocean. I've never seen anything like them before. And yet they seem so familiar... It's strange, isn't it?"

Hafa laughed through his nose, constantly marveling at the fragility and strange endurance of the human memory. He looked down at the cup again, and pride be damned, he wanted more.

"Is there more water." he said seriously, not even bothering to phrase it in the form of a question. Makarim shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, that's all I could spare for now. Water is hard to come by as of late, and it's incredibly expensive. The only water to be found anywhere around here is at the palace, and the Prince is rather protective of it."

Hafa started to attempt standing, and Makarim was on his feet in an instant. "Haru, what are you doing? You shouldn't be getting up, you need to rest-"

"Where is the palace?" Hafa ignored him, managing to stand. His legs still felt shaky, but he wasn't falling over, so he supposed that was a good sign.

Makarim shook his head avidly. "No, no no listen to me… You can't go waltzing into the palace demanding water, you'll be arrested on sight! No one gets near the palace these days, Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din doesn't allow anyone to-"

"Stop," Hafa said, raising up a hand to silence the human, "Prince _Rim_, did you say?"

Makarim blinked. "Yes," he said carefully, "does that name mean anything to you?"

"How long has he been living in the palace?" Hafa asked, his blue eyes blazing with an emotion that Makarim couldn't decipher.

"How long?" Makarim repeated, and then crossed his arms, seemingly deep in thought once again. "You know, no one around here really knows. It's sort of a mystery to the entire city, an urban legend. It's as if he's always lorded over us, but he's so young in appearance- Hey, Haru, where are you going?!"

Hafa had gathered his things and straightened his clothes as Makarim had been talking, and was now walking past him and making for the stairs.

He stopped at the first step but did not look back. "Thank you for everything, but I need to go to the palace. I would be grateful if you watched my camel until I return." he said, and just like that, he had climbed the stairs and was gone, leaving Makarim in a stunned silence.

The dry city air hit Hafa like a wall as he exited Makarim's pottery shop. Hafa found his camel safely tethered just outside, gratefully eating wheat and oats in the company of Makarim's twin siblings, who introduced themselves as Rani and Ru'a. The twins expressed immediate interest and curiosity at Hafa's sudden appearance, but Hafa managed to pry them off of him and politely excuse himself after masterfully dodging all of their questions.

There were so many people crammed into the streets and so many voices and noises coming from every direction, Hafa felt more than a little uncomfortable and overwhelmed by it all. In his entire lengthy existence he rarely saw more than one or two humans at a time, and certainly never interacted with them in groups. He was wiser than that. Even after he had been thrust into this accursed mortal skin, he had been doomed to wander the desert endlessly, his only companions being animals he occasionally met along the way.

Very quickly Hafa felt sure that he was suffocating, and he quickly dodged out of the way of a passing group of humans and found a wall to keep himself upright; he wasn't sure what he was feeling, but he was sure it was a mortal sensation, something like fear mixed with a great unease that clawed at his chest and caused his breathing to hitch.

"Hey, mister? Are you okay?"

Hafa started at the suddenness of yet another human voice addressing him, and he realized that he was currently leaning against the wall with his head hanging low, looking very much as if he were about to be sick.

He glanced sideways at the owner of the voice; the blonde hair was noticed firstly and foremostly, an incredible rarity in this part of the world, and the boyish face and features wildly contrasted the well-built if not svelte figure of a young man. As if his hair and pink eyes weren't obvious enough, his skin was surprisingly pale, and he was adorned in bright colors and shining jewelry common to that of a dancer.

The man was looking at him with an expression of curiosity and worry. Hafa averted his eyes.

"Yes," Hafa said stiffly. The blonde young man clicked his tongue.

"You don't look okay," he pointed out, and after casting a furtive look around, he produced a small flask from the many layers of cloth tied at his hip. "Do you need some water, maybe?"

Hafa's neck nearly cramped yet again. He took his weight off of the wall and looked at the flask as if it were a gift from the Gods. "Are you sure?" Hafa asked, inwardly shocked at himself for not just downing the contents of the flask without another word. "I've heard that water is hard to come by, and-"

"People have to help each other! I've never seen you around before, so you may as well leave here knowing that there were some good people in this city. I don't mind if you have a drink or two," the man said with a bright smile and an endearing tilt of his head.

Hafa stared at the flask for another moment as if having a debate with it, but finally his desires got the better of him and he snatched the container out of the dancer's hands and put it to his lips, pulling only one drink from it's depths before quickly pressing it into the other man's chest, heaving a deep sigh from the sensation of water traveling down his throat twice in one day.

"Wow," the man said with a surprised laugh, pocketing the flask, "you act like you haven't had water in years!" The blonde's expression became slightly more subdued, and he glanced around them at the dirty streets. "Though… I guess that's really the state of the whole city, right now." he said regretfully.

Hafa followed the young man's gaze, and with a jolt of surprise he saw many people- some of them children- sitting and lying on the streets and in the alleys, tucked away out of sight, all of them looking on the brink of death. Dehydration was taking them slowly, and Hafa swallowed a painful lump in his throat. Knowing the suffering of a mortal firsthand had given him a fair amount of empathy that he hadn't previously possessed, and seeing these poor people get passed by all the others moving about their lives as if they were invisible was painful. Even Hafa hadn't noticed them until the young dancer had pointed them out.

"Why doesn't anyone help them?" Hafa asked quietly.

The dancer smiled sadly. "There's not really much anyone can do. There isn't enough water to go around, so that's just the way it is. Don't think badly of them, they ignore them because they feel guilty."

"You aren't ignoring them," Hafa pointed out, drawing a surprised look from the blonde man, "why didn't you offer some water to them, instead of me?"

"A mouthful of water isn't going to save any one of those people," the young man said. "They're too far gone. To be honest, you just looked like you were going to be sick. There's a big difference."

Hafa looked at the ground, his eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "Why doesn't Rim _do anything_ about this?" he asked no one in particular, but the blonde dancer leaned forward, his eyes wide and sparkling in the mid-day sun.

"Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din? No one really knows what he's thinking about any of it, he stays in the palace almost all the time. We only ever see his soldiers out here in the city. Is that why you're here? Did you have some business at the palace?"

"I just want to see the water," Hafa replied, and the young man stared at him with a dumbfounded expression before bursting into peals of laughter.

"You're strange!" the dancer laughed, shoving Hafa's arm jovially. "I'm Najiya, by the way. What's your name?"

Hafa struggled with the question for a moment before deciding on an answer. It was best he not spread his name all over the city until he knew exactly what was going on.

"Haru." he answered, with some finality.

"Haru?" Najiya repeated, and folded his hands behind his back, teetering on the balls of his feet. "That's a strange name, too! You're pretty strange all over, huh?"

Hafa closed his eyes in reply, and then looked around them once more. "Which way is it to the palace?"

Najiya made an odd, drawn out sort of sound that must have been attempting to convey confusion. "You're not really going to the palace, are you?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. But I don't know which way it is." Hafa replied cooly. Najiya stared at him with an open mouth for a moment longer before closing his eyes and pressing a finger to his temple.

"You really are strange." He pointed ahead of them. "It's just that way, on the other end of the city. You'll get lost without someone showing you around, though, these streets twist every which way and lead to some seedier parts of town. So I'll show you the way!" the blonde announced, pointing a finger to the sky in what looked like an attempt to be commanding.

Hafa sighed heavily, but wasn't really in the mood to object.

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They hadn't gotten very far into the city before they saw a small crowd of people gathered around what looked to be a royal guard shouting at someone. Without hesitation, Najiya immediately grabbed Hafa and pushed the two of them through the quickly dispersing crowd.

As they neared, they found three guards circled around an old man, who was on his knees before them, his hands clasped around one another firmly. Hafa frowned. He usually didn't care very much about the affairs of humans, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach about the whole situation.

"Please, my daughter… She's very sick, she needs water! She'll die, _she'll die_-"

"Not our problem, old man. Now shuffle off, and stop pestering us. We've got better things to do than listen to you make a fool of yourself." One of the guards, almost mockingly, pulled his flask of water from his side and drank deeply from it.

Najiya hissed through his teeth. "Those jerks!" he whispered angrily to Hafa.

The old man was far from giving in, however, and he advanced on one of the guards, his hands still folded together in a pleading manner. "Please, you don't understand! My daughter... We need water, the Prince has plenty, his people are dying-"

"I said, back off!" the guard spat, and kicked the man forcefully in his stomach, sending him crashing to the ground with a wail. The remaining onlookers quickly and quietly fled the scene, all but Hafa and Najiya. Hafa was just about to suggest they leave as well when the guards all ganged up on the man, kicking and punching, delighting in the man's pain.

Hafa felt something inside of him snap, and when he chanced glancing at Najiya, the blonde had a fierce look in his eye, his pale hands balled and trembling. They nodded to one another, and Hafa advanced on the closest guard, grabbing the man's arm in mid-punch and pulling him back with more force than his modest frame would suggest possible.

The guard uttered a confused stutter as Hafa easily tossed him aside, and as the other guards noticed what had happened, they abandoned the old man and turned on him. Najiya flew in and struggled to help the old man up, glancing worriedly at Hafa.

Hafa glared defiantly as the guards circled him, jeering at him and holding up their fists threateningly. Hafa's calm gaze floated to Najiya, who had the old man's arm around his shoulders, looking lost as to what he should do next.

"Get him to safety," Hafa called, easily dodging a punch that had been thrown in the direction of his head. "We can find each other later."

Najiya looked torn for only a moment, before nodding resolutely and helping the man away and out of sight.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" one of the guards said angrily, throwing another punch at Hafa, which was easily evaded. "Slippery one, aren't you?" another guard growled, trying and failing to grab Hafa's keffiyeh. Hafa moved almost like the water itself, and the guards were quickly growing tired of trying to land hits on him.

All at once, Hafa realized the opportunity that had presented itself. Everyone had been telling him how impossible it was to gain access to the palace, but the situation he found himself in almost ensured that he could get closer than he ever could have previously. If he was arrested, it was almost a certainty that he would be housed somewhere close to the palace, if not in the palace prison itself. And he certainly didn't mind getting roughed up a bit before making his inevitable escape. It was nothing he couldn't endure.

Hafa jumped back, putting his hands up in surrender. "I apologize," he said, and two of the guards grabbed his arms roughly and held him tightly between them, not giving him an inch to move. The third guard stood in front of Hafa, a smile pulling at his lips. "I understand you want to arrest me. Please take me to prison." Hafa finished, his voice even and without emotion.

Shining in the sun, a silvery glint of steel reflected off of the guard's newly drawn sword and Hafa immediately realized his mistake.

The cold steel cut through Hafa's body like a knife through butter, and the sensation of tearing skin and rupturing organs was something that Hafa had never known. Hafa's mouth opened in a silent scream, the cold of the sword and the warmth of his own blood mixing together to create a symphony of incredible agony. The guard was sadistically twisting the blade around now, and the marid choked on his own blood, eyes wide in disbelief and staring at nothing. His vision was blurring dangerously fast, and in a sudden graceful motion the sword was pulled from him and he crumbled to the ground like a jointed doll, coughing and sputtering and moaning.

One of the guards was kind enough to grab him by the hair and drag him to a fairly unoccupied alley, tossing him against one of the stone walls. Hafa's eyes could no longer focus on anything. The pain was thankfully subsiding, and as Hafa faded away, he could hear that name being called again, quietly and distantly, as if it were floating to him from the other end of a very narrow hallway.

And then he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"What kind of animal _is _that?" asked Rim, the edge of the water brushing against his toes, his palms digging into the dirt behind him to keep him sitting upright comfortably.

The night was calm, the sky unbelievably dark but illuminated by a full moon which reflected beautifully off of the water's surface. The lights from the town behind them were dimming, and soon it would be time for Rim to head back.

Hafa swam closer to the young human, his blowhole producing a spout of clear water that Rim had to playfully dodge. There was no real need for his current form to _have _a blowhole, but he found it to be quite fun to use.

"A dolphin," Hafa said simply, swimming farther away again and disappearing below the surface of the water. Rim giggled, and waited for Hafa to reappear before speaking again.

"What kind of animal is a dolphin? Does it really exist?" he asked the marid. Hafa swam around beautifully for a moment longer before answering.

"It is an animal that loves the water," he said distantly. The voice of a marid was a sultry mixture of light and smoke, drifting and languid and strange to the human ear, but Rim had grown used to it.

"Is that why you chose its form? Because it loves the water as much as you do?"

Hafa didn't answer, and once again dove down into the clear water, taking longer than usual to resurface. Rim watched him all the same, humming to himself and bringing his knees to his chest, hugging them.

"Is this your true form, then? I mean, is this what you really look like?" Rim continued curiously, as soon as he saw Hafa break the surface of the water. The first time he had seen Hafa he had been a blue crab, but almost ever since their first meeting Hafa had taken on this form instead.

"No." Hafa replied, glancing at the human as he swam on his side, one fin treading water gently. "We have no true form. We are not bound by physical confines. To be constricted to only one physical form is a mortal concept that I do not understand. Or envy," he said, and Rim rested his chin on his arms, grinning.

"I think that would be so fun to change form. Do you know what a shark is?"

"Yes," Hafa answered simply, splashing his tail. "There are shark infested waters just off the coast. I see them often."

"Really?" Rim chimed excitedly, his smile widening. "I used to hear stories about them. I would want to be a shark, tearing through the ocean, leaving everything behind, taking what I need with no one to stop me… And getting to swim with you! Aaahh, that sounds so amazing!"

Hafa's blue eyes fixed themselves on Rim as he spoke. He couldn't understand wanting to 'leave everything behind', or do anything other than enjoy what the water had to offer. But he knew that he liked these times with Rim the best, even if he didn't show it. And he knew that soon Rim would have to go back to the village, even though Rim never wanted to go back. It wasn't his home.

Although Hafa couldn't know what that felt like, he knew that if he were ever to be separated from the water, it would be the most terrible feeling in the world.

.

.

.

"Ahn, haah, Prince R-Rim… I… Soon, I'll…"

Aini leaned back into the waves of satin sheets, tossing his head back with a strangled moan. Rim grunted and slid his hands over Aini's pale inner thighs, spreading his legs wider to grant him better access.

The Prince's mouth slid slowly and teasingly along Aini's modest length, tongue working independently and licking up the shaft with agonizing care. His tongue flicked at the head and foreskin before gently taking the sensitive skin between his startlingly sharp teeth and nibbling. As Aini wailed in pleasure, Rim took the entire length into his mouth again, plunging it so far down he could feel it pressing into the back of his throat, and then he pulled his mouth away with an alluring wet popping sound.

Trembling and on the brink of orgasm, Aini stared at Rim through half-lidded eyes, his mouth open and producing incoherent noises. "Pl-please…" the boy pleaded mindlessly, his gaze trailing to Rim's crotch and focusing on the obvious hardness beneath the layers of expensive cloth.

Wordlessly, Rim stood up and untied the black sash at his hip, allowing the cloth to fall, his pants following suit. He stepped out of the pool of clothing at his feet and leaned his knees on the bed, positioning himself over Aini, his cock touching the smaller male's, causing him to intake breath sharply.

Rim reached down and wrapped his hand around both of their lengths, pressing them together, his hand slick from saliva and precum. He began to pump them both at once, and Aini cried out and arched his back, his hands flying to Rim's upper arms and holding him tightly. Rim's mouth opened and he sighed in satisfaction, his crimson eyes falling closed and working on creating a rhythm as he stroked them both in time.

Aini couldn't hold out any longer, and with a cry he came, his release loud and messy, as it usually was. Rim grunted and continued to stroke their cocks together roughly, focusing on the feeling of Aini's organ twitching and expelling the remainder of its seed; it wasn't long before Rim followed suit, his own cock shooting thick ropes of semen onto Aini's heaving stomach and chest. He groaned loudly as if in pain, and then fell forward on top of the smaller male, his breathing ragged.

"Aini…" he whispered softly into Aini's collarbone, and the silver-haired boy smiled and closed his eyes, always happy to hear his name coming from the Prince with such a fond inflection. It didn't happen often anymore, usually only during the heat of sex or in the afterglow.

Predictably, Rim pushed himself up and off of the bed, turning away from Aini and pulling his clothes back on. He walked to the table nearby and tossed a clean cloth at Aini, who had managed to sit up on the bed.

"You may go. Clean yourself up first." he said coldly, and Aini bit on his bottom lip, wiping off his chest and stomach obediently. He dressed himself shakily, the orgasm having left his body numb and hard to maneuver.

"I will tell the servants to prepare a bath for you. Have a pleasant evening, Prince Rim." he called from the door, but Rim said nothing. As Aini closed the door behind him, he could faintly make out the familiar cloud of smoke forming just behind Rim's back.

Aini's footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, dissolving into curved architecture and high sloped ceilings. The floor was smooth and reflected everything, namely the torches that burned on the walls that illuminated several stone fountains filled with clear, flawless water. The footsteps ceased, and Aini fixed his eyes on the water in one of the fountains. He felt more worried than usual today.

He wasn't sure how long he had been spacing out, but soon another set of footsteps marked the arrival of someone approaching from behind; Aini snapped out of his thoughts and resumed walking, worrying that it was perhaps one of the guards who enjoyed giving the Prince's only male concubine a difficult time whenever they had the chance.

"Aini, wait!" came a familiar female voice, and Aini stopped, turning with a smile.

"Princess Ghazi. Good evening." he offered as Ghazi came near, her lovely and complimentary outfit jingling and swishing as she hurried to him. Aini was one of two people the Princess allowed to call by her regrettably masculine first name instead of the name she preferred. They had been friends since they were very small, so it was one of the perks, Aini supposed.

Ghazi swept some crimson hair away from her eyes and smiled brightly at him. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Where were you?" the Prince's sister asked, slightly out of breath.

Aini noticeably flushed, and Ghazi took note of his rather disheveled appearance. She brought a knuckle to her lips and stifled an embarrassed giggle. "Oh… I see." she said cheekily, and Aini crossed his arms, glancing away and fixing his eyes on one of the many fountains.

Ghazi's expression softened. "How is he?" he asked softly, dropping her hands to her sides. "Any better?"

Aini frowned and looked to the ground, and then met Ghazi's eyes with concern. "No. To be honest, I'm surprised he spoke to me at all… He's just getting worse and worse," he said, lowering his voice to ensure it stayed between them. He felt terrible… No matter how worried he was for the young Prince, he knew that Ghazi had much more reason than he to be concerned.

"I thought as much…" she sighed heavily. "I don't think my brother is telling me everything there is to know about what's going on outside the walls," Ghazi continued, biting absently at her thumbnail in thought. "Everytime I ask him anything, he gets so defensive and angry. I tried to talk to him yesterday about how much water is being moved into the city, and he practically forbid me to talk about it."

Rubbing his arm awkwardly, Aini glanced once again to the water in the fountains. In the palace, water was everywhere. No one seemed to know where the water was coming from, and there was plenty of talk of Gods and demons and genies between the palace staff to explain away the phenomenon. Aini wasn't sure what to believe, but he knew that the amount of water they had at their disposal in the palace was more than enough for the entire city to live comfortable for years and years.

And yet, hardly any water was ever seen leaving.

"You told me a while ago that you thought Rim was afflicted by something," Ghazi said, surfacing Aini from his thoughts. "Do you still believe that to be true?"

Aini frowned in thought. Ghazi had never been much for talk of curses and magic, but Aini had always been inclined to pay mind to those sorts of stories. He was rather sensitive to things that others couldn't see or didn't want to see, which had always led him to be more open-minded.

He nodded resolutely. "I do," he said, and Ghazi sighed once again. She placed a hand to her cheek, tucking her elbow in her other hand.

"I heard my brother talking to someone the other day. When I walked into the room, he was speaking to someone so _angrily_, and they were talking back to him in a strange voice I couldn't understand. But when I made my presence known, there was no one in the room with him. My brother was alone." she said worriedly. Aini chewed on his bottom lip, remembering the smokey presence he had seen before he had left Rim's private quarters.

"I don't see what we can do for him," Aini said, focusing hard on the ground. "If he won't even listen to his own sister, there's little hope for the rest of us." He hadn't meant to sound so bitter about it. Ghazi seemed to understand, though, and put a comforting hand on Aini's arm.

"He's not himself," she said softly, with a reproachful smile. "You know how much he cares about you, right?"

Aini offered Ghazi a smile in return and nodded. Lately, it had been a habit of his to try and remember the Rim he knew years ago- the Rim that _smiled- _whenever he was feeling disheartened. It worked to quell his worries somewhat, but only slightly.

"Don't worry about me. Anyway, why were you looking for me in the first place? To ask about Prince Rim?" Aini asked the Princess curiously, and Ghazi cast a look around them.

"That was part of it," she said, her voice hushed, "but I wanted to talk to you about something else, too." She shuffled a bit closer to Aini, and he inched his face closer to hers.

"What is it?"

"I'm planning to go along with the guards tomorrow, to see how much water is being moved into the city for myself." she said seriously.

Aini paled. "Wh-What? Ghazi, you can't, you know that Rim won't allow it-"

"I'll be in disguise! They'll never know it's me!" Ghazi declared deviously. Aini pointedly eyed her up and down, and the action must have been enough to get the meaning across. "I'll be dressed as a merchant, of course!" she said hotly, her face flushing crimson. "But I was wondering if you could help cover for me while I'm gone... You know, just in case Rim is wondering where I am."

"And what exactly am _**I **_supposed to tell him?" Aini asked exasperatingly.

"Anything! I'm sure you can come up with-"

The sound of wooden shoes clicking on the smooth, stone floor behind them caused both Princess and concubine to start badly, and they immediately ceased talking.

It was Siraj al Din Ibn-Mouhsina, Grand Vizier to the Prince, an impressive man with fiery red hair and a hard-to-read disposition. As he passed them, he flashed them a charming smile and a respectful nod; his gaze wandered to Ghazi only long enough for her to be almost certain that he had heard them; in an instant, he was gone, his robes flowing impressively behind him as he disappeared down the hall.

.

.

.

"_Haru! Haru, can you hear me_?"

It always felt like being pulled very forcibly from deep beneath the ocean currents. It wasn't altogether an unpleasant feeling, but it certainly didn't feel good, either. The process of a mortal body spurring back into life was in of itself an abomination of nature, so it only stood to reason that it should be rather uncomfortable. Lungs suddenly contracted and filled up with air, and blood rushed from the previously unmoving heart to spread through the veins and burn like wildfire. It was an acquired taste, a flavor that unfortunately Hafa had grown used to over time.

"Haru!"

Hafa's eyes slowly opened, his pupils trying hard to adjust to the darkness that surrounded him on all sides. For a short moment he thought maybe he had gone blind, until he saw a dim light being moved over towards his face, and he could just make out Makarim's unmistakable broad shoulders, the light from a lantern illuminating the man's worried face.

Groaning weakly, Hafa squinted through the darkness at the man.

"Thank the Gods! You're actually alive. With this much blood lost, I didn't think you possibly could be… You're really something, aren't you?" Makarim said with a relieved chuckle, kneeling down close to the other man.

Hafa pushed himself up and winced; his hand slid to his stomach, but there was no longer any wound. He could still _feel _it though, a phantom pain, the cold steel cutting him through. He pulled his hand away and looked at it hard through the darkness, surprised to see no traces of blood.

"I cleaned you up as best I could," Makarim said with a smile, watching Hafa closely. "There was so much blood… What happened?"

The marid didn't answer right away, sweeping his gaze to stare directly into Makarim's eyes for an uneasy amount of time.

"I was killed, I suppose," he answered stoically, looking around. He didn't recognize his surroundings. He had his back resting against a warm stone wall, and the two men were currently positioned behind a large wooden wagon filled with hay. They looked to be in a back alley somewhere, and night had fallen over the city, the star-littered sky visible directly above them through the gap between the buildings.

"_Killed_? Well, there was certainly enough blood for that to be true." Makarim tilted his head at Hafa curiously. "Are you unable to die? Is that part of the curse, or is that your power as a djinn?"

Hafa was still staring at his hand. "Why are you here?" he asked quietly. Makarim set down his lantern and sat himself on the ground near the raven-haired marid.

"I went looking for you. After you left, I closed down the shop and headed for the palace, since I figured you would be heading that way. I probably wouldn't have found you at all if I hadn't heard a group of people talking about a palace guard executing a nameless traveler." he said, propping his knees up and resting his arms on them.

"No," Hafa said firmly, shaking his head. "_Why_ are you _here_? Why did you come looking for me? I don't understand."

Makarim regarded Hafa for a long moment with a surprised expression. He chuckled and smiled warmly, causing the pit of Hafa's stomach to blossom with warmth for reasons he couldn't identify.

"I don't think I really understand, either. I just wanted to be sure you were okay. But I guess I was worrying too much," he said.

Unsure of what to say in reply, Hafa fell silent and again looked at his hand, his fingers curling inward and pressing hard into his palm. Humans were so confusing. Before he had been cursed into a mortal form, he had been wise to stay clear of humans whenever possible. They were greedy and manipulative, always trying to lure him with honeyed words and pitiful stories of their suffering that would have had anyone else sobbing before they'd even finished their tale.

But all they wanted from him was power, or riches, or the swift death of their enemies. _Wishes_. That's what is always came down to. He had only made the mistake of trusting a human once, and that had been the worst mistake he'd ever made.

All of that considered, Hafa couldn't understand what it was that Makarim wanted from him. The man couldn't have known with any certainty that he was a creature born of magic when he'd picked him up from the sands, and even after having it more or less confirmed, he had done nothing to trap him. In the storage basement of his shop, he could have easily subdued him; in his weakened mortal form, it wouldn't have been terribly difficult. But he had given him water and a safe place to rest. He had let him leave unmolested. And now, he was braving the city to make sure he was okay.

What was it all for?

"I should thank you again," Hafa said evenly, finding it harder than usual to make eye-contact. "I'm causing you a lot of trouble."

"No trouble," Makarim said, picking up his lantern and standing up, offering his hand to Hafa. "It isn't every day that someone like you appears in our midst. I'm finding it all incredibly interesting."

Hafa eyed the out-stretched hand before taking it in his own and allowing Makarim to help him to his feet. His joints and muscles were still aching from the after-effects of reanimation, having been rudely pulled from their state of rigor mortis and forced to function.

He was only unsteady for a moment before mastering himself, and his vivid blue eyes swept their immediate area. "How far is the palace from here?" Hafa asked, and Makarim's mouth fell open.

"You can't still be serious about going there…?"

"I am," Hafa replied coolly.

Makarim brought a hand to his forehead and sighed. "There's no stopping you, is there?" he asked, to which Hafa did not reply. Another short silence followed, and Makarim groaned.

"Alright… Let's go, then. We'll have to make a stop on the way, though… I don't know if you need to sleep, but I've barely laid my head down tonight."

Hafa stared at Makarim so blankly that the taller man had to laugh. "I just worry when you run off on your own, so I may as well come along. I know the city better than almost anyone, and I have a feeling I could explain your way out of trouble a lot more effectively than you could. I might even be able to save you the trouble of getting killed. Again." Makarim said, bending to pick up a satchel filled with the various cleaning and medical supplies he had used on Hafa.

Hafa's gaze was unwavering. "I'll most likely be _breaking in_. You could be arrested, or worse."

Makarim grinned and walked past Hafa into a neighboring alleyway, motioning for Hafa to follow him. "I'm more resourceful than I appear. Now come on, I know a place nearby where we can get some rest before heading for the palace." he said, Hafa walking after him stiffly as if his legs were compelled to do so.

He still wasn't sure why the human was so eager to help him, but for some reason, Hafa wasn't inclined to deny him.

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.

.

Footsteps echoed ominously from behind, and Najiya pushed on, feeling sweat at his brow and a pain in his ankle. He tossed a glance over his shoulder and saw two of the guards emerging into the alley; just as quickly, Najiya tore around another corner, cursing under his breath.

Just after Najiya had helped the old man home, he had gone looking for Haru, but found no trace of him anywhere. He had looked for him until night had fallen, and had finally succumbed to sleep when it became too dark to search any longer.

Najiya had known that interfering with the palace guards hadn't been a good idea from the start, but he hadn't imagined they would be_ this persistent_ about finding him. One of them had caught sight of him in the marketplace in the early morning, and Najiya wasn't sure how much time had passed since then, but he had been running and hiding ever since. It was getting exhausting.

He hoped Haru had fared better than he.

As he turned another tight corner, Najiya's ankle finally failed him and he tripped, falling headlong into a wall. He hissed in pain and held his head as his vision spun out of control; he blindly felt for the offending wall and staggered to his feet. When he finally gained control of his vision, he saw that he was surrounded on all sides by four sneering palace guards.

"Oh… Hello," Najiya offered with an impish smile, his breathing still ragged.

"Why've you been running, blondie?" asked one of the guards, stepping closer to Najiya. With his back to the wall, Najiya couldn't back away any further.

"Well, you were kind of chasing me," Najiya pointed out, shrugging casually, "so it seemed like the best thing to do."

"He's a cheeky one, this," commented one of the guards with a laugh. "Yeah," said another, getting uncomfortably close, so close that Najiya could smell the stink on him, "he is, isn't he? I heard we were supposed to arrest him for disturbing the peace yesterday along with that other brat."

"The asshole that was _executed_, you mean?" another guard said mockingly, to which the first guard chuckled, leaning his arm on the wall above Najiya's head and pulling his face close to the blonde's. "Yeah, that one. I hope he wasn't a friend of yours, sweet-pea."

Najiya's eyes were wide. Something like that couldn't be true, could it? Everyone knew that the guards that came from the palace could be cruel, but executing a man without any sort of trial? Najiya's expression turned fierce, and he advanced on the man in front of him, unsure of what exactly he would be capable of doing but wanting to do _something_. He was easily grabbed by the other men and held firmly, although he did not cease struggling.

"You're lying! Why would you-? _How _could you!"

"Fuck, he's a fighter, too!" a guard laughed, and the first guard pressed a hand to Najiya's cheek in an uncomfortably gentle way, caressing him. "You know, I think this one is too _pretty _for prison. I say we take care of him in our own way. What do you say, blondie? No prison time, and we'll even throw in some water for you. It's a good deal. Although your knees might get a little sore..."

Najiya promptly spat in the man's face, and in reply received a sharp blow to his abdomen, dropping him to his knees with a groan. The guard wiped his face on his sleeve and scoffed. "Fortunately for you," he sneered, "I like them feisty."

"What's going on here?" came a sudden commanding voice, accompanied by the sound of footsteps coming from one end of the alley. Najiya was in too much immediate pain to move or look up, so he remained focused on not throwing up what little food he'd managed to eat that day.

"Officer Reem!" There was a shuffling of footsteps, as if the guards were all scrambling to line up; surprised by this turn of events, Najiya managed to look up, his vision blurred.

The dark-haired officer that now stood facing the guards was wearing a slightly different uniform than the others. Deep purple cloth suggested that he held a higher position of power than the other men, and an impressive sword was strapped to his side. He was wearing eye glasses that were of a pale color; it was rare to see spectacles in the city, and Najiya couldn't remember ever seeing someone who owned a pair.

The officer's purple eyes flashed to Najiya behind the expensive glass, and then back to his men with an annoyed expression.

"Is this how you've been spending your morning? Hastling people in the streets?" Reem asked venomously, and the one of the guards glared at Najiya with loathing.

"We were just about to arrest the brat here." he explained hastily, and Reem crossed his arms.

"On what grounds? By whose orders?"

"'Disturbing the peace', sir. And strictly speaking, we were acting without orders. We were upholding the law, which is part of _our job_-"

"_Your job_ is to do as you're told. Prince Rim doesn't have time to deal with…" Reem waved a hand in Najiya's direction, "...this. And nor do I. Today, you're needed at the palace, like everyone else, while we prepare the water for selling. People are already lining up, and we haven't even moved the water yet. _Get back to the palace_. I'll deal with the whelp." he said, his eyes once again moving to Najiya.

"Yes sir!" The guards bowed their heads respectfully, although it was obvious they had other things they wished to say. They cleared out of the alley quickly, and soon Najiya and the palace officer were left alone.

Najiya wasn't sure what he had expected next, but it certainly hadn't been a hand extending towards him to help him to his feet.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, and Najiya coughed, regarding the hand in front of him for a moment before smacking it away and standing up on his own. The officer didn't seem very surprised, but he did appear reproachful, which took Najiya a little off-guard.

"Your men killed an innocent man yesterday in cold blood. Why should you care if _I'm_ alright?" Najiya snapped.

If those men had been telling the truth and Haru had been executed, Najiya felt incredibly responsible. He had been the one to push his way into the situation in the first place, when they should have just kept walking… It wasn't fair for Haru to have paid that price.

The officer looked almost sad. "They aren't 'my men'. I rank above them, yes, but their orders come from the Prince. And regretfully, Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din has become lax in his discipline as of late. Men in their positions of power can be easily swayed when they have no one to answer to for their actions."

Najiya frowned at the man prominently for several moments before finally sighing in resignation. He rubbed his stomach, which was still burning with pain. "Well, you don't seem as bad as they are. Can't you do anything about them?"

The spectacled man shook his head and crossed his arms. "Only a few of us have any desire to keep this city from falling into shambles. Damage control is difficult, especially when there are so many things to see to. Although, I suppose that's a poor excuse for not being able to save a man's life…" the man trailed off, sighing. He looked down at the blonde with regret. "I'm sorry… If he was a friend of yours, or family…"

"I barely knew him, but I think he was a good man. He was just trying to help someone." Najiya replied quietly. A silence followed, and was ended only when Najiya coughed into his hand again.

"Thank you for helping me," Najiya said, smiling at the royal guard charmingly. "I'm sorry I came off so angry. I didn't think there were any decent guards left in the city… Anyway, I'm Najiya," he said brightly.

The guard nodded his head, the corners of his mouth pulling into a small smile. "My name is Reem."

"Reem," Najiya repeated, as if he were testing the name out on his tongue, "_Beautiful gazelle_. Isn't that a girl's name?" he giggled, and Reem immediately flushed.

"Najiya is a girl's name, too!" he exclaimed indignantly, and Najiya could only laugh harder.

The man adjusted his eye glasses and cleared his throat, hoping to change the subject. "You're a dancer, yes? I remember seeing you perform a couple of years ago, before…" he trailed off again, and Najiya's laughter slowly faded as he dusted off his clothes, which had gotten rather dirty during the earlier chase.

"...before everything changed?" Najiya finished with a sad chuckle, and Reem flushed somewhat.

"Y-yes. Back then, I remember you were… Quite beautiful." he said, and Najiya tilted his head in interest.

"Beautiful, really?" Najiya asked brightly, and Reem looked away hurriedly, fixing his gaze on the wall next to them.

"Your dancing. That's all I meant." he said, and then cleared his throat once again in an incredibly official manner. "They'll be bringing the water out soon." Reem reminded, his second attempt to change the subject. "I probably shouldn't be saying anything, but they're bringing less than usual this time. You'll want to get there as soon as you can, and be aggressive about buying some. You know that it's first come first serve."

Najiya stifled an embarrassed laugh. "I don't _exactly _have any money this time around," he admitted, tapping a finger on his chin. "With the way things are right now, work isn't exactly plentiful, you know? It's okay though, I've been pretty good about rationing my water, so I should be fine for another week."

He _hadn't_ been good about rationing his water at all. He had a rather bad habit of sharing his water with others who seemed more in need of it, regardless of how much he had left.

Reem frowned and rested a hand on his hip. "You have enough water to last another seven days? From the amount they were selling last week?" he asked suspiciously, and Najiya only grinned in reply, teetering playfully back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"I can make it work," he assured, rubbing his arm absently. Reem fixed his eyes on the wall next to them again and sighed.

"If it's work you need, I know where you can find some. And water, as well," he said. Najiya blinked at the man in surprise.

"Where?" he asked curiously. He half-expected Reem to suggest prostitution, as sex was the only other thing left in the city that people were willing to pay generously for. He would have been lying if he said he hadn't thought about it, but right now he saw it as a last resort.

"Prince Rim has been requesting new entertainment recently. Dancers have been hard to come by, and since female dancers are _highly _indecent, I suppose that Prince Rim would be pleased if you were to be hired at the palace."

Najiya's mouth fell open, and for once, he didn't quite know what to say. He had never expected to be offered a job at the palace, and had honestly never fancied the idea of working for the Prince. But beggars couldn't exactly be choosers. And if the guards had lied to him and Haru was still alive, that's most likely where the man would be headed.

"I thought you were going to say 'prostitution'!" Najiya admitted with a relieved laugh, and Reem's face immediately flushed pink and his cool composure faltered.

"Wh- How- No! I wouldn't- That's not beautiful at all!" Reem exclaimed, flustered, and Najiya held a hand over his own mouth to stifle the giggles.

Najiya shrugged up his shoulders endearingly and leaned in closer to Reem in a friendly way. "But dancing is beautiful, right?" he asked, grinning, and Reem looked down at the young man for a moment before pushing his eye glasses up the bridge of his nose and averting his eyes.

"Y-yes. I believe it can be." he said, red-faced. Najiya's smile broadened.

"Okay, then!" he exclaimed cheerfully, grabbing Reem's arm and linking it in his own. "Take me to the palace!"

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.

It had all gone surprisingly well.

As most of the guards filed into the front of the palace, their swords gleaming in the sun and strapped snuggly to their sides, the rest of the procession went rather unnoticed. Merchants hired to sell the water also had the job of carrying it outside in huge wooden barrels, and Ghazi tried her best to hold up her end although she severely lacked the physical strength. Luckily, no one had cast her a second look. The merchants typically wore so many layers of cloth and robes, she was practically covered from head to toe and blended in perfectly.

Soon there were only a couple of barrels left to move. Ghazi couldn't believe how little of it was leaving the palace; the amount they were about to sell was little more than the amount that swam uselessly in the fountain in her bedroom every single day.

Ghazi silently followed the other merchants back into the palace to retrieve the last of the water, frantically thinking of when to make her exit. She had seen what she had come to see, but she couldn't be gone too long or Rim would most definitely notice that she was missing. Just as she was contemplating this dilemma, a hand firmly clamped down on her shoulder from behind, and another hand planted itself to her mouth to prevent a surprised yelp. Giving her no time to struggle, she was pulled gently into the shadows of the hallway and then into an empty corridor just as quickly.

When finally Ghazi's senses returned to her, she pulled away from her captor, staggering a bit as she was released, her white turban slipping and falling to the ground. Standing before her was the Grand Vizier, his mouth curled into an apologetic grin and his hands out in front of himself in a calming gesture.

"Now, Princess…"

"Siraj al Din Ibn-Mouhsina!" Ghazi put a hand to her chest, taking in a relieved breath. She glared up at him fiercely. "Just what were you trying to do? You are not permitted to touch me-"

"If Prince Rim were to catch wind of this, he would be furious. There are better ways of gathering information than disguising yourself and risking being discovered." Siraj al Din said, blazing amber eyes locked on Ghazi's with purpose.

Ghazi's expression deflated. "Do you… Plan on telling my brother what you saw here?" she asked him, and the Grand Vizier lowered his hands and offered Ghazi a kind smile.

"I have no intentions of telling Prince Rim any of this. I came here to help you." the man said, and Ghazi inclined her head toward him suspiciously.

"Help me with… _What_, exactly?"

Siraj al Din crossed his arms over his chest. "There is more wrong with your brother than you know," he said in a hushed voice. He cast a look around them and then turned, his cloak swishing around him. He glanced back at her. "If you want to know what I know, you'll come with me."

As the Grand Vizier strode down the hall, Ghazi watched him go and considered his offer for only another brief moment before hurrying after him.

She needed to know what was happening to Rim. And at this point, she didn't care at what cost.

.

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_Journal of Reem Ruqayyah_

_Jumādā I 22nd, xxxx_

_Tomorrow is my birthday. I am turning 11._

_My father is taking me hunting to celebrate, and I am quite excited as I've only ever helped clean the animals afterwards, and helped to carry the game home. Mother is nervous but hasn't said anything about it._

_Something happened today. A palace rose from the sands._

_A gigantic palace that wasn't there before now sits just in the center of the city. It made the ground creak and rumble and everyone ran outside to see it. But even as I write this I feel that the palace has always been there. But I know I saw it rise up just minutes ago._

_There was chaos when it first appeared, but now all of the adults are acting normally. They too feel that the palace has always been there, and that Prince Rim has always ruled over us. It's hard to remember if that's true, but I know what I saw. I needed to write it down right away, so I don't forget like the rest of them._

_But even as I write, I feel myself forgetting. _

_Tomorrow is my birthday. I am turning 11._


	3. Chapter 3

It was a marvel how easy it was to dazzle human children.

The jointed doll danced awkwardly on the bed, it's stuffed legs and arms flopping without any real rhythm or guidance; all the same, Ghazi clapped her hands and gasped and laughed joyously, and Rim watched his sister fondly as the doll danced on.

Hafa finally removed his influence from the doll, and it landed softly into Ghazi's lap. She picked it up and hugged it, her large eyes watching for Hafa as he returned to a corporeal form and returned to the water basin. Today he was a blue crab, but only so that he may comfortably fit inside of the water basin Rim had gotten for him while he visited their home.

"You're amazing, Hafa!" Ghazi exclaimed, her face pink from laughing. She yawned hugely, rubbing one of her eyes. "You're so funny..." she added, her voice quickly losing enthusiasm. Admittedly, it was long past her usual bedtime.

"Are you sleepy, Ghazi?" Rim laughed. She nodded, hugging her doll to her chest more tightly. "You can sleep here in my room, then. Get some sleep." Rim suggested, and the girl easily flopped onto her side, still holding onto her doll. Rim shifted from his position on the floor to toss a blanket over her, and in no time at all, she was asleep.

Rim pulled his knees to his chest and glanced over at Hafa, who was almost completely submerged in the water aside from his face. As a crab, it was hard to tell where he was looking.

"Thank you for being so kind to Ghazi," the boy finally said, and Hafa used his claws to pull himself out of the water a little more, to give the appearance of understanding. "She's been through so much. You make her really happy when you pull those little stunts."

"You've been through just as much." Hafa pointed out, his tone apathetic.

Rim shrugged his shoulders with a grin. "I guess. But I have to look out for her. That job's mine now."

Hafa wasn't sure how to respond, and so he dunked himself entirely in the water. It was his usual reaction to dealing with something he didn't understand. Water helped everything to make more sense.

When he resurfaced, Rim had another question.

"Hafa, can you be without water? What I mean is, without water, would you die?" he asked, and Hafa was very nearly glad that crabs couldn't make facial expressions, because the question struck him as rather odd.

"No, I wouldn't die," Hafa said, once again pulling himself half-way out of the water via his mis-matched claws. "I shall not know death for centuries. But I would be very lonely."

"Lonely?" Rim asked, tilting his head with a quizzical expression. "How does _water _keep you company?"

A long silence followed this question, and for once, it wasn't Hafa being difficult or aloof. He honestly wasn't sure how to answer in a way that a human could understand.

"The water is older than anything else," Hafa finally said, the blue crab dissolving into vapor and rising over the basin, pulling the water with him into the air. The water swirled and snaked, weightless and mystifying, and Rim watched with wide eyes and a partially open mouth. "It is wise. It is comforting. My being exists within the water, and without its embrace, I would only be half of who I am. That is all."

The water returned to the basin, but the marid remained in his smoky form, although the smoke now strongly resembled a dolphin as it floated around the room airily.

"Oh," Rim said with a surprised chuckle. "I didn't know water was like that."

"I know," Hafa said indifferently. Silence fell again, and Hafa's energy finally calmed, sending him back to the water basin to once again take the form of the crab. He was comfortable with silence, and did not attempt to make conversation.

A long time passed. For Hafa it was over in an instant, but for Rim, it felt considerably longer. The only sound to be heard was little Ghazi's steady breathing as she slept peacefully and Hafa nearly thought that the boy had fallen asleep as well until he spoke again.

"Hafa…" Rim started softly, and Hafa snapped out of his reverie to regard the boy. Rim's expression looked darker, as if he had just come back from harsh and difficult thoughts. "We don't belong here, Hafa. I _hate _it here."

Hafa always had a hard time understanding Rim's distaste with their circumstances.

"The villagers are kind to you and your sister. You have food and water here."

"I know that! But it's not home. Home was taken from us. It's not _fair_." Rim spat angrily, his voice hushed to avoid waking his sister.

"A great many things are unfair. There is nothing to be done about that." Hafa offered, trying hard to understand what it was Rim wanted to hear.

Rim fidgeted a bit. "Well… There _are _things that can be done, sometimes," he suggested uneasily. Hafa said nothing. Rim bit on his bottom lip, avoiding Hafa's piercing gaze. "You're very powerful, Hafa. You have so much magic you can use, so why not-"

"No," Hafa cut him off, his voice much more stern than it usually was. Rim flashed him a desperate look.

"Why not!"

"Because that isn't how it works," Hafa asserted, the crab turning away from the boy. Rim felt bitter tears burning just behind his eyes.

"How does it work, then? Marids can grant wishes, can't they? Anything in the world?" Rim's voice was rising in volume, and behind them Ghazi shifted in her sleep, gaining her brother's attention. He hastily glanced back at his sister, and when he had confirmed that she was still sleeping, he looked back to the basin. He half-expected Hafa to be gone, but the blue crab remained. "I'm just… I just want to know why you can't help us with magic." Rim whispered, his throat tight with suppressed tears.

Hafa sighed heavily. In his crab form, it was quite literally impossible to convey any sort of emotion.

"Some things are meant to be. If djinns fixed every human problem in the world, human life would no longer hold any meaning. There is much suffering in the world, Rim. I'm sorry about what happened to your parents, and your village, but this is your home now. You and your sister were lucky to survive, and now you can build a life here. Isn't that enough?" Hafa asked, his voice lacking it's usual detached inflection. He sounded almost hurt.

Rim bit down on his bottom lip to keep from crying. "I… I'm sorry… I didn't mean that I was ungrateful for what you've done for us already... Without you, we probably would have died that day out by the water… I just…" The boy furiously wiped away a stray tear that had escaped, and let out a trembling sigh. "I just wish everything could be the way it used to be, and I knew you had the power to do that, so…"

"Do you intend to try and capture me, Rim?" Hafa asked suddenly, and Rim was struck silent. "You must know that it's the only way to force me to grant your wishes. Has that thought been on your mind?"

It took Rim a moment to process the question, and when he finally had, he moved on his hands and knees toward the basin. The crab was gone, replaced by the familiar smoky vapor that was slowly fading away.

"Hafa, no! No, that's not what I meant… I would _never_… I swear, I could never do that to you!" the boy pleaded, tears clouding his vision. Only silence answered him. Rim cried softly, wiping his tears away on his sleeve. "Please believe me, that's not what I meant… Please don't leave, Hafa, don't be cross with me… Without you, I…" the boy looked around the room for a moment but saw no trace of the smoke, and he felt sure that Hafa had left him. He cried, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his arms.

A cool breeze blew some of the crimson hair away from the boy's forehead, and Rim suddenly felt what was unmistakably a spectral hand brushing through his hair comfortingly. He looked up to see the soft bluish smoke he had grown so used to, and smiled sadly, uttering a relieved laugh. "You're still here…" he whispered, sniffling.

"Yes." Hafa replied, his smoky form wrapping over Rim's shoulders comfortingly. He wasn't sure why he stayed. He had never intended to get close to a human, and his relationship with this troubled young boy lacked all reason and logic. There was nothing that benefitted him here, but still he remained. He felt a connection to him, a nameless kinship. It was something he couldn't explain.

"I won't leave you." Hafa promised, and Rim cried quietly for a time longer.

.

.

.

"Haru, slow down! Wait!"

Makarim was forced to grab Hafa's vest before the man exposed their position, and pulled him back behind the giant stone pillar they were currently using as a hiding place. Hafa frowned at the taller man.

"I can see a way in from here. There's no sense in waiting."

Makarim sighed patiently. "There's a lot of sense in waiting, actually. There's a guard over there, and although there's only one, that's plenty enough to alert the others. We have to be careful about this, Haru." he said reproachfully.

Hafa crossed his arms and glared at the guard perched just in front of the large doors at the side of the palace. The doors were wide open, and Haru wasn't sure why until he saw a couple of merchants come out, carrying chairs and umbrellas and other items to aid them for a lengthy day of selling water. The front of the palace was currently too crowded to comfortably move anything, so the side entrance must have been some sort of store room for equipment used by the servants.

"Only one of them," Makarim observed, staring down the palace guard with a furrowed brow as he brainstormed.

"On any other day, I'm sure there would be more security out here. But everyone is so busy in front, and there are so many people, they must be short handed." Makarim's eyes widened suddenly, and Hafa looked at him with impatient curiosity.

"Well? Did you think of something?"

"I think so. We need a distraction of some kind. If we can get this guy to move, even if it's only for a minute, maybe we can get inside." Makarim suggested, and then craned his neck to better view the crowd of people gathered at the front of the palace. He smiled, and then looked back to Hafa. "I think I have a plan, but you need to stay exactly here, and don't move until I come back. Okay?" Hafa nodded, and watched as Makarim stealthily worked his way into the ever-growing crowd of eager people.

Hafa leaned his shoulder against the pillar and waited. He didn't have to wait long before he noticed a change in the crowd, like a chain reaction; at first, it was just a few people speaking a bit more loudly than before, but very quickly, the talking turned to angry shouting, and all of a sudden the entire group of humans seemed dangerously close to rioting. The guards looked surprised, but were quickly working to calm the people down, and not long after the shouting started, the guard at the side door walked away to see what all the fuss was about.

Makarim reappeared at Hafa's side, slightly out of breath. "It worked! Let's go, quickly," he said in a hurried whisper, and carefully, the two of them ran for the open doors and rushed inside.

The storage room was narrow and cluttered, and both the men very nearly tripped on the debris littering the floor which consisted mostly of wooden stools, brooms and broken table legs. Thankfully the door to the room was not far off, and Hafa and Makarim made for it wordlessly, staying mindful of their surroundings.

The door opened into a narrow corridor. From the state of it, it appeared to be a hallway mainly used by the servants; when the two men were quite sure they were alone, they started off down the hallway together with haste.

Despite their current situation, Hafa allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. "What happened back there? What did you do?"

Makarim smiled awkwardly. "I may have mentioned to a couple of people that the soldiers were charging _three times_ the regular price for water," he said in a quiet voice. "I believe it worked a little _too _well."

"Aren't you worried about people getting hurt, or getting arrested? What if they riot?" Hafa asked, although he personally wasn't terribly concerned about such things. But he knew that Makarim would feel dreadful if anything happened to the humans on his account.

"Those people can handle themselves better than you think," Makarim remarked with a chuckle. "But I don't think it will come to that. As soon as the rumor gets quelled and the water starts rolling out, everyone will calm down."

The hallway ended abruptly and forked off into two directions, both heading deeper into the palace. The men stopped just at the end of the hall, crouching down although there was nothing useful to hide behind. There seemed to be no one coming from either direction, but the sound of two people talking echoed from their left, presumably palace soldiers.

Hafa turned to Makarim. "You can still turn back." he suggested, lacking any sort of conviction. Makarim smiled.

"I've come a bit too far to turn back now," he pointed out. "Which way?" he added, surveying their options.

Hafa looked down the hall to their right. His gaze was rather fixed, and Makarim followed his lead and stared down the hall. "That way? How do you know?"

"I feel it," Hafa said distantly. "The water is there."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised about any of that," the brunette sighed, and the two of them stole off down the hall.

.

.

.

"Where are we?" Ghazi asked, hugging her arms as the temperature slowly declined. They had been descending so many stairs, the Princess was no longer sure how far underground they had gone. The way down was ominous and illuminated only by the Grand Vizier's lantern. "I didn't even know this was _here_. Where does it lead?"

"Speaking about such things up above is too risky," Siraj al Din said, continuing their descent. "I think you'll agree, considering how easily I overheard your plans yesterday."

Ghazi frowned. "Tell me what you know about my brother."

Siraj al Din stopped walking, and he turned back to meet the Princess's stare. "Your brother, the Prince, is under the influence of a powerful magic," he said, sighing. "Whatever the entity is that has infected him, it is consuming him little by little. It is an entity that has filled his heart with greed. I fear that in time, he will no longer be himself."

Ghazi groaned and shook her head. "You, too? There has to be a more logical explanation, something that isn't so-"

"Forgive me, Princess, but I believe that even _you _can't deny that something odd is happening. Can you even remember how you came to live here? How you and your brother attained these riches, or your royal status?"

An uneasy silence fell over the narrow stone stairway. Siraj al Din must have found that to be an acceptable answer, for he turned and continued his descent. "There is more. Come, there is something you need to see."

.

.

.

Aside from having to hastily hide from a couple of guards making their rounds and a few servants rushing about, Hafa and Makarim hadn't had much trouble getting to their destination. The palace inhabitants were being kept rather busy by the city dwellers just outside, and Hafa also suspected that no one had ever been foolish enough to attempt violating the sanctity of the inner palace without permission, and therefore none of the guards ever expected it to happen.

Hafa turned another corner, and placed his hands against a set of large double doors.

"In here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Makarim swallowed, his heart hammering wildly from the danger of the entire escapade.

"Alright, Haru, anything could be in there, so let's be careful and-"

Makarim was interrupted by Hafa banging the doors open recklessly, and the taller man's voice failed him and the bottom of his stomach iced over in terror. As they looked into the room, neither man said anything, but for entirely different reasons.

Before them was a gigantic, majestic room, the likes of which neither man had ever seen before. Windows were positioned at an angle against the tall sloped ceiling, letting in so much natural light and warmth that it almost felt like they were outside. Gold and ivory adorned the walls and pillars, and beautiful plants accented the room, foliage that would never survive the harsh climate outside the palace walls.

The point of interest, however, was the deep, oval-shaped groove in the floor filled with crystal clear water in the center of the room.

A soft sob escaped Hafa's throat, and in less time than it took for Makarim to stutter a warning, Hafa was running toward the water, his clothing discarded piece by piece down to his loin cloth before diving into the water seamlessly.

The sensation of water around him and on all sides was more incredible than he ever imagined possible. Hafa closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into the depths of the cool water, trying to feel it in his every pore. He no longer cared if he was caught. He didn't care about anything. The torturous years of wandering the desert didn't even seem important anymore. He was with the water again, and that was all that had ever mattered.

Hafa attempted to move in the water. His movements were awkward and jerky at first, as he had never been in a wholly physical body when swimming, but he developed a technique fairly quickly. Learning how to use his legs to propel himself forward and his abdomen muscles to keep himself in motion, Hafa quickly mastered the art, his mortal body seemingly quite suited for swimming.

There was a burning pain in his chest now, something Hafa had never felt before, but he was far too happy to care. He swam, the water rushing past him and seeping into his skin and soul; he opened his eyes and could just make out Makarim's silhouette against the surface of the water, gesturing to him to come out. But he didn't want to. He never wanted to leave ever again.

The pain and tightness in his chest was becoming incredible, and finally Hafa realized his problem; he had been holding his breath. Hafa opened his mouth to let the water in, and immediately he gagged and sputtered, recoiling in the water as if he had been bitten. He felt light-headed, and in his confusion, he nearly didn't feel the pair of strong arms snake around his middle until he was being pulled upward.

Hafa broke the surface of a water with an enormous gasp for air, followed by coughing. Makarim kept a tight hold of him and swam them both carefully to the most shallow end of the oasis, where both men could easily stand above water level. He released Hafa but kept a firm hold on one of the marid's arms to keep him steady.

"Haru! Haru, are you okay?" he asked worriedly, as Hafa continued to cough and wheeze, his lungs working tirelessly to intake air. After a moment, Hafa managed to look around; Makarim's clothing laid in a haphazard pile next to the water's edge. It seemed as if the man had rather hastily jumped into the water to save him. Hafa felt surprised. He couldn't believe that Makarim was even comfortable _being _in water, let alone diving in to save someone. Much had changed over the years, he supposed.

"I can't breathe under water," Hafa observed calmly, once he had stopped coughing. Makarim fussily wiped some dark hair away from Hafa's eyes.

"No, humans can't do that. We need air." he said with a relieved sigh. "Haru, we should go so-"

"The water has changed," Hafa said softly, his eyes watching the water with a soft expression. "But I have changed even more, I suppose. I forget time and time again how vulnerable this mortal body is..." Hafa fell silent, something like sadness burning behind his eyes until he turned to Makarim with a strangely sincere expression.

"I haven't thanked you yet," he said quietly, and Makarim stared at the man in astonishment. "Without your help I wouldn't have come this far. You keep helping me at great risk to yourself, and I'm grateful."

Makarim fell silent, slowly removing his grip from Hafa's arm. "Haru…" he replied, unsure of what to say in response to the unexpected show of gratitude. Not seeming to mind Makarim's stunned silence, Hafa effortlessly floated away from the man, returning to the deeper end of the oasis.

"H-Haru, we should be going. I _know _this is important to you, but we need to be careful-"

"I'll remember to come up for air this time," Hafa assured, dunking himself into the water again.

"That's not really what I was referring to," Makarim sighed, and leaned his elbows behind him. It couldn't be helped, really, and he simply didn't have the heart to deny Hafa this pleasure.

Ten miraculously undisturbed minutes went by, and Makarim was silent but alert as Hafa enjoyed the water. Makarim had to admit, Hafa was a beautiful swimmer. It was never more obvious that Hafa had once been a sea marid than it was now, and it almost pained him that eventually they would have to leave, forcing Hafa to return to the dusty, waterless, blazing hot city.

Just as Makarim was going to strongly suggest they leave, Hafa surfaced just in front of him, water streaming from his hair and off of his shoulders, his expression downcast. The close proximity of their bodies and the heady expression in Hafa's eyes caused Makarim's face to flush and his heart to pound in his ears, although he wasn't sure why.

"Haru, are you ready to go?" he asked the man softly, almost as one would speak to a child while being careful to appeal to their sensitivities.

Hafa didn't reply, his blue irises flicking upward up to meet Makarim's eyes and hold his awkward stare. Makarim felt his mouth become dry under Hafa's cryptic gaze.

"Haru…?" Makarim stammered, and that was all he managed to say before Hafa shortened the distance between their bodies and closed his mouth firmly and purposefully over Makarim's.

Hafa wasn't entirely sure what had come over him, but whatever it was it was _strong _and seemed to easily overtake his sense of control and inhibitions. It was similar to his desire to feel the water, _very _similar, except it was friction he wanted to feel, friction and heated skin and a slick tongue in his mouth.

Experimentally, Hafa boldly moved his lips against Makarim's, the taller man too stunned to react right away. Slowly and almost timidly, Makarim finally followed Hafa's lead, kissing him back with a muffled whine that sent shivers up Hafa's spine. The thought of danger was a far cry away from where they were now, a fleeting reminder that was getting increasingly pushed away by the tirade of sensations. Makarim struggled to make sense of the situation and had a mind to stop whatever _this _was before they were potentially caught, but all rational thought flew away as Hafa shifted and intentionally pressed their pelvises together.

Makarim broke away in surprise and let out a soft groan that sounded almost pained; Hafa silenced him by once again crushing their mouths together, kissing him as if struck with fever. Makarim could feel Hafa's hardness pressing into his thigh as Hafa brought his hands to the taller man's broad shoulders, fingers treading firmly over muscle and giving him the leverage he needed to grind his arousal against Makarim's own growing hardness under the water.

Tongues battled for entry into each others mouths, and their kissing was sloppy and inexperienced but heated and passionate; Makarim pulled away from the kiss once more to breathe, gasping pitifully as Hafa bucked at him again, the marid's hands sliding slowly from Makarim's shoulders and down his arms, then to hold tightly to the stone siding of the oasis on either side of the other man. Hafa kissed and bit at Makarim's neck and jawline, allowing the taller man to make lewd sounds that only caused more discomfort in Hafa's loincloth. As he pressed his lips to the man's neck he could clearly feel the pounding of Makarim's pulse, savage and filled with uncertainty; he bucked at the man again, allowing their lengths to rub against one another through the thin layers of cloth between them.

Trembling, Makarim grabbed onto Hafa's sides to keep himself steady, his breathing ragged and punctuated with soft moans and sharp intakes of breath.

"H-Haru.. We shouldn't be-... Aah…"

Hafa's head felt fuzzy and strange, almost as if he'd lost too much blood, but it was all so _good _that he was finding it impossible to stop. He continued bucking and grinding against Makarim, his cock aching badly for some sort of release that he didn't understand. Makarim's voice was becoming higher-pitched and his moans and whines were increasing in frequency. Hafa pulled away to look at Makarim's face and he blushed at the man's expression, brows knitted together as if in pain, mouth open and panting and pleading, lips flushed from kissing. It was alluring in an unexpected way.

Flushing under Hafa's stare, Makarim choked out another moan, his hips now moving against Hafa's desperately as they picked up the pace. A second later he grabbed Hafa's arms as if a sudden fear had struck him. "Haru _stop_, I'm going to… Haahh… Aah…"

Hafa felt the same way. _Something _was going to happen, although he wasn't sure what that was, but he wanted it badly. He pressed his forehead to Makarim's, the two of them breathing and grinding in time, and he could feel something powerful building in the pit of his stomach and in his groin. It would have alarmed him if he hadn't been so far gone.

What also may have alarmed him was the unmistakable sound of loud footsteps echoing in the hall just behind the door.

Makarim was the first to react. His face paled and he pulled away from Hafa, placing a hand firmly on the other man's chest and listening hard. Hafa's eyesight was slightly blurred from arousal, but the fear on Makarim's face was clear; someone was approaching.

In a flurry of limbs and water, both men unsteadily lept from the oasis, grabbing clothes and hastily dressing themselves. There didn't appear to be many places to hide, but Makarim finally grabbed Hafa's arm and yanked him toward a cluster of huge, exotic plants with enormously wide leaves.

They dove behind the safety of the leaves just as the double doors opened and two men stepped into the room.

.

.

.

The Princess and Grand Vizier finally reached the end of the staggeringly long staircase, leading them to a cold, oval chamber lit by torches. There was nothing of interest in the large chamber save for a stone pedestal in the very center, and on the pedestal sat a rather old and worn brass hookah. Nothing about the hookah seemed very special, except for the fact that it was glowing a rather fierce shade of blue.

"What is this…?" Siraj al Din seemed perturbed by the state of the old pipe, and he held an arm out, gesturing for Ghazi to stay put. She did, far too confused about what she was seeing to want to approach the thing.

"Why is it doing that?" Ghazi asked in alarm, as Siraj al Din walked carefully around the pedestal, looking over the glowing hookah carefully. "What is this place?"

Siraj al Din crossed his arms and stared at the pipe with a furrowed brow. "This place exists to hold this object, as far as I can tell," he started, "and I found it a couple of years ago. I said nothing of it, because I wasn't sure who put it here and for what purpose. The only thing I can be absolutely certain of is that a strong curse is tied to it."

"I can believe that," Ghazi said as the bluish glow suddenly flared up, like a flame to a fire, and then settled again.

"But I've never seen it do this before. It began glowing yesterday morning, very faintly, but it was not like _this _last I saw it. It's positively burning now." he said in a troubled tone.

"Do you think that this… _Whatever _this is, has something to do with my brother? Is it cursing him?" Ghazi asked worriedly.

Siraj al Din sighed heavily. "I couldn't tell you. It's not unrelated, but without knowing the nature of the curse on this pipe, I'm afraid I just can't say for sure."

Ghazi slowly approached the hookah; the smoky blue glow surrounding the object looked strangely familiar, but she couldn't place why. "Alright. Let's say that this thing is cursed, and it's affecting Rim. How could we break the curse? Can't we destroy it?" she asked, and in response, Siraj al Din looked around the room for a moment before walking away and stooping over to retrieve a burnt-out torch from the floor. He walked back to the pedestal, and tossed the torch at the pipe; as soon as the torch came near it was deflected violently backward by an unseen force and hit the wall with a clatter.

"There is dark magic being used to keep it from harm," Siraj al Din explained. "I haven't been able to find a way to get to it."

Ghazi chewed on her bottom lip, her chest tightening in fear. Aini had been right all along, something other-worldly was possessing her brother, and she was quite possibly staring at the source.

"Well, we have to try! This glowing, it has to mean _something_, don't you think?" the Princess asked the man.

The Grand Vizier had been fumbling around in his robes for several seconds, and finally produced a silver amulet covered in carvings from one of the pockets, approaching Ghazi and offering to put it around her neck with a polite gesture.

"May I?" he asked, and Ghazi hesitantly moved her hair aside to allow the necklace to be slipped over her head.

"What is this?"

"It's a ta'wiz. It will protect you from harm." the man responded, and Ghazi held the metal in her hand, running her thumb over the rough surface.

"Do you really think I need something like this?" she asked in a small voice. Siraj al Din smiled reproachfully.

"The object is reacting to something, that much is certain. Whatever it is, it's coming nearer to the palace. Judging by the state of it now, it may already be here. I'm unsure if it is coming to help us or hinder us, however. So it's best to be careful." he said seriously.

Ghazi slipped the cool metal amulet into her clothes and out of sight. "Why even tell me all of this? What can I do, when you've already got so much of this figured out?"

Siraj al Din placed a hand comfortingly on Ghazi's shoulder. "You're his sister. His only blood. You deserve to know what's happening, at the very least. But I feel like if anyone can help the Prince, it's you. And we appear to be running out of time."

The hookah continued to glow and distort, and Ghazi stared at the object for a long moment. She had never felt very helpful to her brother. When they were younger, it was he who had taken care of her, keeping her happy and healthy and free of fear. She had blindly accepted all of their good fortune back then, because she felt strongly that Rim deserved it more than anyone. Had everything been the product of some curse all along?

Her mind wandered to memories from long ago, memories that involved magic and mystery and a kind entity that had helped them in their time of need. Since then, Rim had assured her that none of it had been real, that there had never been someone named Hafa. The resentment in Rim's eyes everytime he spoke of it was something she never gave a second thought to. She turned a blind eye to it on purpose. She didn't want to admit what she knew was true.

She never wanted to accept that her brother was lying.

.

.

.

"Najiya, stop running around! You can't do as you please just because-"

"Ooh, Reem, what's in here? What's this room?" Najiya asked excitedly, pointing to a pair of double doors to their left as they walked. Reem sighed.

"It's not exactly a room, that's the hall that leads to the kitchens. Now let me just show you where you'll be sleepi-"

"What about in _here_?" Najiya's eyes were wide and shining, and he slid his hand over another pair of huge double doors, glancing at Reem with an excited expression. Reem shook his head sternly.

"No one will be in there at this time, it's-"

"So no one will mind if I peek, right?" Najiya said cheekily and opened the doors, immediately gasping in wonder at the beautiful room before him admiring the plants and lovely architecture surrounding a tremendous oasis.

Reem hastily followed Najiya into the room as the young man looked around in awe. "Najiya, this place is off-limits unless given expressed permission from the Prince. We need to leave, right now. I still have to show you where you'll be living while you're employed here-"

"This place is beautiful!" Najiya exclaimed, turning to Reem with a bright smile. "What's it for?"

Reem heaved a hopeless sigh, and glanced around in moderate interest. "This is Prince Rim's private oasis. It doesn't get much use anymore. The servants still tend to the plants and keep the water clean, however."

"_Aah_, do I count as a servant? I definitely wouldn't mind taking care of the plants in here, that wouldn't feel like work at all!" the blonde sighed happily, and Reem couldn't help but smile a little at the young man's enthusiasm.

"Officer Reem," came a voice from the doorway, and Reem snapped out of it and whirled around, his face locking into a very official expression. A guard stood, staring at the two of them in mild confusion; Reem cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose importantly.

"I'm busy showing the new servant to his duties here, what is it you want?" he demanded, and the guard immediately straightened in response to the tone of Reem's voice.

"We need you outside, sir. The people are getting rowdy, we need extra hands."

Reem nodded and dismissed the man, sighing and scratching the back of his head absently. "I'll be back," he said to the blonde, concerned over the idea of leaving Najiya to his own devices for longer than even a minute. "You stay right here until I return, understood?"

"Yep!" Najiya chimed, still looking around. His eyes suddenly caught sight of a puddle near the edge of the water, and then watery footsteps scattered in seemingly frantic circles and more puddles and droplets on the smooth floor. He tilted his head in thought, and then looked back at Reem, who was leaving the room in a hurry.

"Hey, Reem?"

Reem stopped with a sudden jerk as if Najiya's voice had him attached to a rope. "Y-yes? What is it?"

"You said that this room hasn't been used in a while, right?" Najiya asked curiously, and Reem nodded.

"That's right. Now excuse me a moment, and wait right there," he said, and marched off down the hall.

Najiya looked back to the mysterious puddles of water and approached them. He was careful not to slip on the water, but now that he was closer he saw that it was all over the place; it looked as if someone- or possibly multiple someones- had been in the water very recently. Perhaps servants skinny-dipped when no one else was around? Najiya giggled at the thought.

Hushed speaking suddenly caught Najiya's ear and he immediately fell silent. He looked up and around, certain he could hear someone close-by.

"_No, no no don't, __**don't**__…!_"

One of the plants across the room was shaking oddly, and Najiya was just about to aggressively blame spirits for the phenomenon when a man stepped out from behind a cluster of leaves.

"Najiya." Hafa said, his face conveying the smallest traces of surprise.

The blonde's mouth fell open and his pink eyes widened in realization. "H-Haru? Is that seriously you?!"

Makarim popped up behind Hafa, looking aghast that they had been revealed but equally as surprised that the two seemed to know each other. "He calls you Haru, too?" the taller man asked, but Hafa ignored him.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" Hafa asked, but Najiya didn't answer; in no time at all he had crossed the room and quite literally jumped on Hafa, pulling him into a tight hug.

"You're here! Haruuu! You're alive, I can't believe it!" the young man exclaimed in joy, nuzzling the man excitedly.

Hafa wasn't entirely sure how to react to the human clinging to him in such a way, so he settled on holding his arms out awkwardly.

"Hang on, how do you know Haru?" Makarim asked in confusion, rubbing one of his temples. It was obvious by now that this individual wasn't exactly a threat to them, so he allowed himself to relax momentarily. It was also obvious that he wasn't going to get many straight answers from Hafa, so addressing the out-going blonde was most likely going to grant him more information.

Najiya finally released Hafa, his face flushed pink from all the excitement, and he beamed at Makarim. "I met him yesterday. A lot's happened since then, and somehow I kind of got a job here at the palace. But Haru, some nasty guards told me you were executed! How-" Najiya suddenly gasped, grabbing Hafa's shoulders firmly. "Is that why you're here? Did you break out of prison, and now you're on the run?!"

"Nothing quite like that," Makarim laughed. "But I guess the real story is equally as unbelievable. And strictly speaking, we're not supposed to _be _here, so if you could show us the quickest way out, that would be incredibly helpful."

Najiya stared at Makarim for a long moment, and then a wide smile of recognition formed on his lips. "Hey, I know you! Makarim, son of Tahiyah, yeah? My family always used to buy your families pots and basins, they were the best!" he announced, and Makarim chuckled in embarrassment.

"Thank you… I think I've seen you around as well. But really, we should probably talk about all this later. We _really _need to be going-"

"I don't want to go yet." Hafa said suddenly, flashing Makarim a defiant look. "I finally found the water, and I don't want to leave."

"He's still on about that, huh?" Najiya asked in a tone of wonderment. "So persistent!"

"Be reasonable!" Makarim pleaded, glancing nervously at the door, "I know you want to stay, but it just doesn't work that way! If we're caught here, you won't ever see the water again! We were lucky to even get this far without getting arrested. We have to go!"

"He's right," Najiya interjected, and grabbed Hafa's arm, pulling him towards the open doors. "Reem will be back any minute now, so you need to go before then."

Hafa was only resistant for a moment, but Makarim gave him an imploring expression, and he finally sighed in aggravation and allowed Najiya to lead him out of the room. He cast one last look back at the oasis before they rounded a corner and it was out of sight.

"There was a door back here somewhere that leads to the gardens. There hopefully shouldn't be anyone out there, since it's so crazy out in front." Najiya explained, finally releasing his hold on Hafa when he was sure the man wouldn't try and bolt.

The three men walked briskly down the hall, Najiya glancing down every hall and at every door they passed, trying to remember exactly where he'd seen the gardens. Hafa finally spoke again, the suddenness of his voice causing Makarim to nearly jump out of his skin.

"How did you end up here?" he asked Najiya curiously. It was all too coincidental for his taste.

"I was almost arrested for what happened yesterday, actually," Najiya said with a chuckle. He stopped walking when they reached a door, and Najiya gently opened it and peeked inside. A moment later he pulled his head out. "Wrong door," he said, and continued walking.

"Anyway, this guy named Reem got involved and let me off the hook. He's really nice, and he gave me a job here. I came mostly because I was hoping I'd see you at some point, and here you are! Strange, right?" he finished brightly, but Hafa didn't reply. Najiya's smile dissolved into a pout. "Don't be sad, Haru!" he said, and Hafa perked a brow at him. 'Sad' wasn't exactly the word he would have used, but he understood the assumption. "Since I work here now, I'll try and see if there's anything I can do-"

"_Halt_!"

Najiya very nearly physically jumped at the sudden commanding voice; Hafa merely turned around coolly to observe whomever had finally found them. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but perhaps he hadn't thought about it; for the first time since he had arrived in this city, he felt a cold jab of fear settle in his stomach.

A shining sword was perched just at Makarim's neck, the cool metal pressing against his tanned skin. Makarim wasn't moving a muscle, his expression stony but pale.

The officer stood just behind Makarim, brandishing two blades, the first at his jugular and the second of which pointed between the man's shoulder blades.

"Take one step," said Reem menacingly, "and this one dies."

.

.

.

He had never snuck out of the house before.

Quite honestly, he had never even entertained the idea of doing something so defiant and perilous; it was almost against his nature. But he couldn't bear to admit to anyone how afraid of the water he was, and the next time the other children invited him to go swimming with them, he wanted to accept.

Makarim looked back at the city which now seemed so small, guilt gripping his chest and making it hard to breathe but he continued on toward the seashore, resolving to finish what he had started. He would be back home before anyone even realized he was gone.

It was an ideal night for swimming. The moon shone brightly through the sparse clouds and promised a serene night with no fear of storms, and the water was calmer than Makarim had ever seen it.

As he approached the water, he made a point of first stopping in front of the idol of Manāt, a large stone monument erected for the goddess of fate, which sat majestically just near the edge of the water. He offered a respectful prayer in front of the idol, asking for a safe return. Somehow, asking a goddess for luck only proved to make him more nervous about what he was planning on attempting.

The night was chillier than he would have imagined, and as Makarim discarded his shirt, he shuddered and hugged his arms, letting out a delicate breath. He had come this far, he figured, so turning back now would only mean the whole endeavor was pointless. Holding his breath and biting down on his bottom lip, Makarim walked forward and allowed the water to brush past his ankles.

His heart panged with a wild fear, and Makarim yelped and jumped back.

"I can't do this, I _can't_…" he whimpered, feeling embarrassed tears sting at the corners of his eyes. He stared out at the water, his breathing ragged and a sob perched in the back of his throat. After a moment of gathering himself and employing several calming breaths, Makarim frowned resolutely and decided to try again.

He stepped into the water once more, this time fighting the urge to jump away from it's embrace. He shut his eyes tightly, letting the cold water slide against his ankles and occasionally rise enough to brush over his calves. Makarim felt light-headed from the sensation, trying hard to focus on how _calm _the water was, so gentle and unthreatening. The water couldn't hurt him. He wasn't going to swim deep enough for anything bad to happen. He was here to experience the water, and to get a feel for it, that was all.

_That was all._

This mantra was repeated for several minutes until Makarim finally felt brave enough to open his eyes. The ocean water was still barely below calf level, and nothing horrible had happened. Makarim focused now on relaxing himself, and as he took deep breaths in and out, he took another hesitant step into the water.

Another trembling breath, and he was submerged to his waist. As the water gently sloshed against his skin, Makarim valiantly fought his flight instinct and remained in the water, every muscle in his body rigid. He stood there for some time, repeating his mantra and convincing himself that everything was going to be okay. When he finally managed to loosen up, he looked around himself and realized how far he had come. Fear gave way to a strange sense of pride, and Makarim allowed a small smile to pull at his lips.

Slowly Makarim began moving, sliding his hands into the water and practicing the most basic arm movements, his feet firmly planted in the sand.

He felt more confident. The water couldn't hurt him. There was nothing to be afraid of after all.

Just as he felt he had successfully held his fears at bay, a foot slipped and everything went black.

Cold water rushed over his head, and in his surprise Makarim forgot to close his mouth, yelling out and feeling a cascade of bubbles escape his lips instead of sound. He flailed his arms desperately, but he felt as if he was being pulled deep into the ocean's depths. He had no sense of up or down anymore, and couldn't even tell how far from the surface he was. Was he being pulled? Amidst his panic he could swear he felt a tight grip on his ankle, pulling him down to his death.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to drown. Makarim jerked and swung his arms unhelpfully, his lungs taut and uncomfortable. The night was too dark and the water was too oppressive to be able to see anything. He was going to die in darkness. His father and his grandfather would always wonder what happened to him, and his infant siblings would grow up without a big brother. Makarim's lungs felt as if they could burst and as a reflex he opened his mouth and breathed in sharply, his airways burning in a way he never thought possible. Darkness prevailed. At least, he thought hopefully, he could be with his mother again.

Just as he felt himself losing consciousness, he felt the grip on his ankle disappear, and a new presence was with him, and it felt to be pulling him up towards the surface with super-human speed.

The next thing he could remember was a voice speaking to him from somewhere far away, and a mouth against his mouth, breathing into him and giving him life. His body felt numb and tingly, and when he finally came to, Makarim coughed and rolled onto his side, violently throwing up sea water. Hacking and shaking and crying, Makarim looked up to see who had saved his life; his vision was failing him but he could have sworn he saw a smoky figure kneeling next to him, a creature without a form staring at him with an intensity he couldn't explain.

When he blinked, the figure was gone. Makarim looked around for the apparition before dissolving into a coughing fit, struggling to sit up. He could hear panicked voices coming nearer from the direction of the city, and wondered only briefly how anyone could have possibly known where he was.

As Makarim gave into unconsciousness again, he knew two things for certain.

He was no longer afraid of the water.

And he would never forget those eyes, those blazing blue eyes filled with wisdom and innocence that shone like the ocean itself.


End file.
